moni uddin

The Blue Mountain

Path to the Blue Mountain, Summer.

I still sometimes struggle to believe I helped an entire village. Me . . . a cat from Mowton. I will always admire the cattlefolk’s quiet resilience, and I’ll never forget the friends I made there.

Apollo gave me his family dagger, its blade a deep black and engraved with the Horntree emblem. Tess gave me one of her protection charms. 

Now, whenever I feel fear, I’ll remember Apollo’s bravery. Whenever I feel unsure, I’ll think of Tess’s wisdom.

They’re with me on this last journey.

The Blue Mountain rises higher and higher as I get closer, its peak forever hidden by clouds illuminated by the blue haze. But it isn’t alone. Smaller mountains are spread all around it, like a forest of stone. They vary in size but pale in comparison to their towering elder. Together, they form a colossal wall of rock encircling the Blue Mountain, as if they’re testing the worthiness of travellers . . . testing me before granting passage.

The stone is there. I know it. I can almost hear its hum. Each time the clouds pulse with blue, I feel it, too. It’s as if the mountain itself is breathing.

There’s something mystical about the Blue Mountain. It exudes an ancient calm, as though it has watched over the land for a long time, and in return, the land seems to know and respect it.

Whatever mysteries the mountain holds, I think I’ll make a promise to myself. 

The next time I write in this journal, I’ll be at the top of the Blue Mountain.

Sable slammed his journal shut with a satisfying thump and tucked it into the pouch on his belt. He gulped, craning his neck to take in the mountain’s immense scale. The reality of climbing it suddenly felt absurd. Compared to this great testament of time, he was nothing more than an insignificant ant.

Did he really need that stone? he thought, trying to find excuses. He had already been through so much, most through sheer luck. And this seemed especially out of his depth. After all, he was just a village cat.

And yet, his legs kept carrying him forward along the steep path toward the mountain. Green gave way to grey, and the soft dirt beneath his paws turned to cold, unyielding rock. The trees and plants fell away, holding back as if they’d decided against venturing any further. Still, Sable pressed on. But the doubts followed him. Like water seeping through a crack in a ship’s hull, they pooled deeper with every step. 

A chill set in as Sable crossed the mountain border. He pulled his cloak tighter, shivering slightly. Ahead, the path curved upward, snaking in and out of view along the mountainside. But soon, it became so steep that Sable was certain he could no longer walk. The air thinned, making each breath feel lighter and harder won. Sable scrambled along the path, using his hands to steady himself against the incline.

Eventually, his claws protracted as he desperately gripped the cracks as the path turned fully vertical. His face pressed close to the cold surface and the scent of volcanic rock, ancient and untouched, seeped into his nose. This was it—the first climb. But the thought of completing it felt absurd. He doubted even the most skilled climbers in the land could scale these mountains, and he was just a village cat.

But he carried on, climbing higher. Sable’s foot slipped, grazing the edge. A piece of the mountain crumbled away, tumbling into the abyss below. He scrambled desperately to find another surface. Adrenaline surged through him, keeping him moving. He had to get it right. One misplaced foot or claw could spell disaster. Yet his feet kept slipping, and his claws struggled to find the precious cracks. This was beyond him, he thought. It seemed like only yesterday he had been safely fixing the mayor’s roof in Mowton. Here on the mountain, he felt utterly out of his depth. 

Pressing his face against the mountainside, Sable caught his breath. The cold surface mingled with the warmth of blood just beneath his skin. He exhaled deeply, his misty breath trailing along the wall of rock, a tapestry of jagged faces that dipped in and out of view. Above, low-lying clouds drifted lazily, gentle giants indifferent to his struggle. Vibrations from his rapid heartbeat travelled through the mountain, but it offered no aid. This was a journey he had to face alone. 

As Sable swung his arm up to find another surface to grip, his paws met a smooth, horizontal plane. He patted it in disbelief as if needing to confirm it was truly there. Scrambling up the rocks, his legs and arms burned with desperation for rest. With one final push, he hauled himself over the edge and collapsed onto his back, gasping for air. His chest heaved as he took deep breaths, his body finally still and supported. Above him, the Blue Mountain still loomed, staring down as if to say, you’re not finished yet. Sable buried his face in his paws and let out a soft whimper. He wasn’t sure how much more he could give. He was just a village cat.

The sun rose steadily on the horizon, signalling a new day. Orange hues flooded the dark blue sky, declaring it was their turn to illuminate the world. The rays touched Sable’s face, and he lowered his paws. For the first time, he looked out from the mountain ledge. 

In the distance, Sable could see Horntree village. He remembered how he had conquered the beast, saved an entire community, and how the cattlefolk had thanked him for his courage. A village cat did that. He felt a surge of pride building and some confidence as he realised he was more.

Further down, the rising sun glimmered on the water’s surface. There, on the Tall Shores, he was once off track, far away from the Blue Mountain, and with no food. He faced hunger and glimpsed his demise in the mirror. And yet he continued onward. He did that. 

Sable stepped closer to the mountain’s edge. Draped in the colours of dawn, the land before him looked majestic. Despite the vastness of life stretching before him, the land carried a serene stillness. Sable squinted, trying to see further, to understand more about the journey he had taken. In the distance, the forests stretched endlessly. He remembered when he escaped their deep maze—with a little help. There, he learned there was no such thing as an insignificant ant.

Beyond that, barely visible on the horizon, were the familiar hills of home—Mowton. It was there his journey had begun, unaware of where it would lead, the dangers he would face, or the friends he would make. But he had faced it all, and this allowed the journey to carry him to this very moment.

Sable felt something shift in his mind. It happened quickly, like a tug-of-war in his thoughts. The limiting belief that once held the rope tight loosened its grip. A new belief seized its chance, pulling it to the other side in victory. It told him he could climb the Blue Mountain. He was more than just a village cat.

A fresh set of eyes turned toward the Blue Mountain. Sable protracted his claws, scratching them lightly against the mountainside, feeling the rough texture beneath. This was the last obstacle. He looked up. The giant, ever looming, seemed to shift its expression. The menacing glint softened into warmth, inviting the little cat to conquer its final challenge. 

Sable began climbing again. His claws now seemed to always find a crack to cling to, and his grip became firm. Yet the mountain continued to challenge him. Gusts of wind battered him as he reached staggering new heights. His pack slapped against his body repeatedly until it unlatched, scattering his belongings down the mountainside. He scrambled to close it as the wind dragged his cloak across his face, covering his eyes.

Amidst the struggle, an alternative arose. Sable’s paws hovered over the knot that secured his pack. With a swift swipe, he undid it, letting his belongings fall away. His paw moved to the clasp of his cloak. He shed it, too, watching as it fluttered like a kite dancing in the past. Feeling a sudden lightness, Sable took a quick breath and pressed on, not looking back. Those things didn’t define him.

Renewed, Sable continued, his movements sure and deliberate. The mountain crumbled less beneath him as his footing grew confident, his body working in unison to carry him higher. As he pierced the layer of cloud, he found himself enveloped in mist.

Sable paused, surrounded by a dense, grey darkness that left only the mountain face visible in front of him. Its surface grounded him in this odd void. The wind’s relentless pressure had vanished, and his ears twitched at the unfamiliar silence. He looked around, unable to see where he had come from. It felt as if he were floating, yet his claws remained firmly dug into the mountain. He wasn’t sure how he could climb like this. 

Then, the mist flashed with its brilliant, glowing blue, causing Sable to shield his eyes. The light began at the mountainside and spread outward like glowing roots, illuminating the plump, interwoven shapes of the clouds and revealing the path ahead. It moved slower than it had when Sable had watched it from afar. And just as suddenly as it had appeared, the glow retreated, fading back the way it had come.

Sable felt it then. Each time the light pulsed, it resonated from somewhere just above him. A presence he hadn’t felt since Mowton in his shack. But now it was stronger, undeniable. Sable knew for certain now.

The stone was up there.